there’s this moment
when you stop
trying to
find the story
and in a storm
of flashing images,
the story finds you.
you sit
playing with the pieces,
trying to break them,
then figuring out the fix.
when that final
aha
hits,
you sit
breathless
needing to
scream this story
you have not
yet written
a word of.
this is the moment
you chase
like an addict.
you grabbed
pieces of nothing
from the æther
and spun it
into creation.
briefly,
you were a
god of myth
standing in the chaos,
a godling
channeling something inexplicable
in furious flurry
of firing neurons.

now you have to write it.
you’ve got this,
i believe in you.